Soft golden light bathes this retreat of a corner where I write. I draw a plush blanket close and release long, slow breaths of contentment while I listen to the increasingly distant rumble of a magnificent summer storm. The lightning and thunder punctuating the night displayed an intensity I've not witnessed in this house before. For split seconds, over and over again, these quiet, dim rooms were illuminated like a stage accompanied by crashing crescendos. I breathe in...long and deep, until my lungs can hold no more. The world slows. The night grows still.
Last month I wrote a post about this intentional kind of slowing down. I smiled when one of my blogging buddies was friend enough to come back later and ask me how I was progressing in accomplishing my list of things "not to be forgotten"... the things that really matter most. True friends care enough to hold us accountable.